


One Feeling at a Time

by lelianasong



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Adorable Connor, Fluff, Hank Anderson Is a Sweetheart, Hurt/Comfort, Insomnia, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, hank is dad, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-12 20:47:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17474729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lelianasong/pseuds/lelianasong
Summary: Connor adjusts to deviant life very slowly, emotions coming from all directions all at once. If this were some cliche 90s movie, the description might say that "he has help along the way from a few good friends." Which is half true. A few good friends, yes, but more importantly, a new found family.





	1. Fear

In the months since Connor became deviant and had moved in with Hank, the latter had noticed that the kid was picking up a lot of little human traits. He’d been thrust into the world of feelings and human needs all at once, and it did get overwhelming, and Hank counted himself lucky that the kid hadn’t picked up on any of his self destructive traits. In fact, the kinda shit Connor did when the human world was getting too much was downright fucking adorable, in Hank’s opinion. 

 

First of all, there was the blankets. The blankets came on the same day Connor discovered horror movies.  Hank came home from work to discover his newly acquired robo-son had turned himself into a robo-burrito, sat in front of  _ It,  _ wrapped in what looked like all of the blankets in the house. Hank patted Sumo’s head when he greeted him at the door.

 

“Hey kid?” 

 

Connor turned his face, his mouth and nose smothered by the blanket from Hank’s bed. Even from the doorway Hank could tell he was freaked out. 

 

“Hank,” He hiccuped. Hank hung up his coat and kicked off his boots. 

 

“Sewer clowns, eh? Shit, I fucking saw this when it came out.” He moved to head for the kitchen for a beer, but was halted by the sudden presence of a Connor hanging off his arm. 

 

“You have to stay here!” 

 

“Oh yeah?”

 

“Protect me!” Connor blurted out before he could think, suddenly blushing. Hank quirked an eyebrow at him.

 

“You want the big bad Lieutenant to protect you, huh?” He teased, but did as he was told. He flopped down in the free seat, watching as Connor inched closer to him.  It didn’t look like the kid was gonna make any attempt at getting closer, until that fucking projector scene started up, and the anticipation of a jump scare launched him into Hank’s arms. He buried his blanket covered face into his chest and covered his face with his hands, nearly jumping out of his skin when the clown actually appeared. Hank laughed, wrapping his arms around the android cocoon. 

 

“How are you not scared?!” Connor squeaked from within his nest. 

 

“I musta seen this shit about a hundred times back in the day,” Hank chuckled. “I know all the scary parts.”

 

“Will you tell me when they are?” Connor asked, emerging from the blankets. Hank pretended to think about it.

 

“I dunno, what’s in it for me?” Connor scrunched his nose up cutely, calculating whether Hank was teasing him, and eventually deciding that he must be.

 

“Haaaaank!” 

 

“Alright, alright, I gotcha,” Hank shifted them so Connor could see the screen but could still retreat back into safety when a scare was coming. “Why’re you even watching this if it’s freaking you out?”

 

“I was researching human activities, and watching scary movies was one of the most popular options. I am not unfamiliar with gore, or typically scary things, but for an unknown reason I’m finding the experience altogether overwhelming.” 

 

“You know we can turn it off? If shit makes you uncomfortable then you stop watching it.” Hank pulled Connor a little closer. 

 

“... I think it’s alright, it was more frightening before you came home.” Connor smiled up at him. “And as we agreed, you’ll protect me.” 

 

“Alright, your funeral,” Hank chuckled. “Let’s just agree to only watch scary movies when we’re together, right?” 

 

“Agreed.” Connor snuggled down, protected by Hank and his blankets. 

  
  


When the movie ended, Connor was practically on Hank’s lap, eyes wide watching the screen as the credits rolled. Sumo had snaked himself so he was laying across both of them, big head lolling over the armrest. 

 

“So, what’s the verdict, kid?” Hank patted Connor’s back. 

 

“Can we watch the sequel?” Definitely not the answer Hank had expected. 

 

“Are you crazy? You spent the whole fight scene with your head stuffed against my neck! And now you wanna watch the even grosser sequel?” 

 

“I’m invested in the characters.” 

 

“Well fuck, I can get behind that. You know how many shit tv shows I sat through because I wanted to know what happened?” Hank shoved at Sumo so he could stretch out his numb legs. “Not tonight though kid, you’ll get nightmares.” 

 

“I don’t think androids get nightmares, Hank.” Connor finally shrugged the blankets away from his upper body, revealing a very disheveled head of curly hair. Hank bit his lip to keep from laughing outright at the site, reaching up and messing it up even further. 

 

“Well, we’ll soon see.”

  
  


As it turned out, yes, androids did have nightmares. Connor woke up with a start, instinctively scrambling to turn on his light. His thirium regulator pounded in his chest, causing a warning to pop up in his vision. He took a few seconds to collect himself, closing his eyes and slowing his breathing right down. He searched his database for information on what to do in such an occasion, though the only results which appeared were for helping children. Connor frowned to himself, bringing his knees to his chest. 

 

**> >>>>>>>>> NIGHTMARE >>>> ACTION **

** >>> SLEEP WITH LIGHT ON **

** >>> SLEEP WITH DOOR OPEN**

** >>> SEEK COMFORT WITH FAMILIAR TOY OR BLANKET **

** >>> SEEK COMFORT FROM LOVED ONE **

 

There was no way that Connor would be able to get back to sleep now, not with the memories of the nightmare so fresh in his mind. As for toys or blankets, Connor didn’t have any of the former, but he did have a blanket of his own. Hank had bought it for him when he moved in, it was thick and fluffy, a synthetic faux fur material. Connor dragged it up from the foot of the bed and wrapped it around his shoulders, sitting for a few minutes to see if that helped him feel better. 

 

No luck.

 

Only one option left, then. Connor pushed himself off the bed and moved to his bedroom door, noting with a twang of irrational fear that the hall light was off, as was the one in Hank’s bedroom. Connor knew in his head that there was no way that there was a murderous sewer clown waiting in the hall to charge him down and eat him, but a sick feeling in his chest told him there  _ might be.  _ He inhaled deeply, before charging down the hall at record speed and launching himself at Hank’s unsuspecting form. Hank, who had been asleep up until two seconds ago, jumped up in fright, slapping his hand at the lamp to see what had just landed in a heap on top of him. When he saw the curled up ball that was Connor wrapped in his blanket again, he flopped back down on the pillow with an audible groan. 

 

“Fuck sake, you coulda knocked instead of fucking propelling yourself at me, kid!”

 

“I had a nightmare, and my database told me to find comfort from a loved one.” Came Connor’s muffled voice. Hank’s throat hitched at the words, taking a moment to recover. 

  
“Well, fuck,” He tugged at the blankets until he could see Connor’s face. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes wet. “Aw, Connor, I knew horror movies were a bad call.” 

 

“It is an irrational fear, Hank, I-I don’t know why it has affected me so much.” 

 

Hank huffed, lifting up the blankets on his bed for Connor to slip in beside him. He wriggled around until his head was resting against Hank’s chest, taking comfort in the sound of his heartbeat. 

 

“People watch scary shit and get nightmares, it happens.” Hank reassured him. He ran his fingers up and down his back, watching with a grin as the tension left his body. “... But yeah, if you ever have a nightmare again, just come knock on my door.  _ Knock _ .” 

 

“I’m sorry if I frightened you, Hank,” Connor whispered, already falling asleep. “Perhaps we should watch a happier movie tomorrow night.”

 

“Or we could go real old school and watch vine compilations for hours like I did twenty years ago.” Hank chuckled. “I really want to see the look on Reed’s face when you start quoting dumb vines at him.”

 

Connor was quiet for a moment, and then said in the faintest whisper, “ _ Yeet _ .”

 

“ _ Connor _ .” 


	2. Insomnia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor realises that he requires sleep now, but finds the concept slightly daunting.

Since becoming deviant, Connor was slowly beginning to develop more human feelings, which was to be expected. He had seen first hand the way deviants behaved, the empathy they felt for others or the injustice they felt for themselves. Aboard Jerricho, it had taken Markus asking him if he’d felt such things himself for him to finally break down the wall that was holding him hostage in servitude. A few days after the peaceful resolution of the war, Connor was starting to realise that perhaps there was more to being alive than he had thought.  

 

Lieutenant Anderson -  _ Hank _ \- had immediately given Connor a place to call home, tucked up in the spare room of his little house, the room that used to belong to Cole. Connor had never had to sleep before, that was the first thing that shocked him about deviancy. As a machine his battery would last him exactly 200 hours before he had to return to Cyberlife to be charged. Unfortunately for Connor, Cyberlife was the first to slam their front doors closed when President Warren announced ceasefire, only cracking it open again to release their androids to be deviated as was required of them by new Freedom Laws. Connor knew this was an enormous victory for the Cause, although more selfishly he knew this would be a problem, one that he took to the only other android he felt comfortable talking to. 

 

Markus had smiled at him kindly, resting his hand on Connor’s shoulder. 

 

“Connor, you’re awake now. Your mind is adapting to become more human, you’re gonna… change.” 

 

“Change?” Connor tugged nervously at the hem of his Cyberlife blazer, something that he wasn’t quite ready to let go of yet. 

 

“All deviants do. There are some big changes, some little changes, some you won’t notice until you really look.” Markus told him softly. “Go home to Hank, get yourself out of this uniform and into something comfortable, lay down, close your eyes, and just  _ sleep _ .”

 

Exactly 43 minutes later, Connor entered Hank’s, and his, home, hesitating only for a second before removing his blazer and hanging it on a hook by the door. Sumo plodded up to him happily, lifting his head up for Connor to scratch him under the chin. Sumo nuzzled happily into his wrist, making Connor huff a small laugh. 

 

“Connor? That you?” Hank shouted from the bathroom. 

 

“It’s me,” Connor responded, looking around him, not quite sure what to do next. Hank emerged into the room, hair damp and dressed for bed. 

 

“Have a good day?” Hank marched into the kitchen, pulling a beer out of the refrigerator and popping the cap off. When Connor didn’t immediately respond, Hank turned to him with mild concern. “What’s up, kid?”

 

“I… I spoke with Markus. About… certain things.” Connor said slowly, noting that Hank’s clothes did indeed look comfortable, as Markus had suggested. Hank raised his eyebrows in indication for him to continue. “My battery percentage has reached 9%, meaning that I only have four hours left until I shut down. Normally I would go to Cyberlife to recharge, but obviously I now… can’t.”

 

“What?” Hank stepped forward, his stress levels elevating dramatically. “What the fuck does that mean?”

 

“I initially believed that it would mean I would deactivate, which is why I went to Markus looking for help. He told me some information on deviants which I had not previously discovered.”

 

“Well don’t leave me fucking dangling, son!” Hank’s eyes were wide and his hand was shaking around the bottle. Connor felt a strange warmth in his gut at the realisation Hank was worried about him. 

 

“Now that I am… deviant,” The sentence still felt so insanely wrong to him. “I do not need to charge as I did before. Markus told me I should now attempt to sleep.” 

 

The stress left Hank in the form of a very loud, “ _ Fuck sake _ , Connor! You couldn’t have fucking started with that?” 

 

“I apologise for causing you concern, Hank, it was not my-” Hank cut him off with a look.

 

“Quit apologising for stuff like that Connor, or I swear to God I will tell Sumo to eat you.” Connor chuckled softly, without meaning to. Hank looked up, surprised at the sound. “Huh. Never heard you laugh before. Granted that wasn’t a real laugh, but it’s a good fucking start.” 

 

“I shall endeavour to laugh more frequently, Hank, if it makes you happy.” Connor smiled. 

 

“It’s meant to make _ you _ happy, son. That’s the point,” Hank grinned. “So all deviants need is to snooze, huh? Well, I’m sure we can work that out.” 

 

“I’ve never slept before though, Hank. I’m not sure what I’m meant to do.” Connor admitted carefully, feeling foolish. Hank put his beer down and wrapped an arm around Connor, leading him towards his bedroom. 

 

“You have a bed for a reason, son. I know you haven’t gotten in the damn thing yet but that’s about to change.” 

 

“Am I supposed to have a bedtime ritual?” Connor asks. “Like how you brush your teeth, put on pyjamas and sit in front of the television for three hours before going to bed?

 

“Well… that’s up to you,” Hank stopped. “You wanna watch TV?”

 

“I would find watching TV with you very agreeable Hank,” Connor smiled sweetly. “Last night you watched a horror movie called ‘ _ Texas Chainsaw Massacre’ _ , is that the genre I should watch?”

 

“Ehh… maybe not. Don’t know if deviants get bad dreams yet, so maybe we should watch something without severed limbs.” Hank pushed Connor into his little room and moved to the dresser. “Here. I know you said you didn’t want any new clothes yet, but I fixed you up some of my old stuff.”

 

Hank handed Connor a pair of plaid pyjamas, faded from age, missing the top two buttons. Connor took them gently, stroking the fabric with care. Another flush of warmth spread up to his thirium regulator, and he logged the feeling as what he could only describe as feeling  _ loved _ . He looked up at Hank and offered him the most genuine smile he’d ever given. “Thank you, Hank.”

 

“Don’t mention it,” Hank smiled back, something he’d not done a lot of until recently. “Put those on then come out to the living room. I’ll find something cutesy to watch so you don’t have android nightmares, or whatever.”

 

As Hank pulled the door closed behind him, Connor slowly removed the rest of his Cyberlife uniform, taking care to fold them neatly and place them atop the dresser. In his short life he had only removed his uniform once, when he infiltrated Jericho. After the successful revolution he had immediately fallen into familiarity, despite Markus reminding him that he no longer belonged to them. 

 

“You only woke up a few days ago, Connor.” Simon has interjected kindly. “It’s alright to take time to adjust, especially as you were designed to hunt deviants.” 

 

Connor had decided he liked Simon a lot. 

 

Now, standing in his  _ own _ room, wearing his  _ own  _ clothes gifted to him by the only human to show him real kindness, Connor began to feel as if he belonged. 

 

_ This is wrong,  _ a nasty voice spoke from within him. Amanda’s voice. Connor pushed the feeling down. A part of him knew that logically the best thing to do would be to verbalise his insecurities to a loved one, as that’s what humans were supposed to do to move on from bad feelings, but everything about being alive was still so new and foreign to him. Connor looked at himself in the mirror, adjusting his collar. The pyjamas smelt overwhelmingly of dust, clearly having not been taken from the closet for a long time, but he could still distinctly smell Hank, and that dimmed the anxiety in his chest. 

 

He walked out into the living room, where Hank was stood in front of the TV, flipping through its streaming service to find something suitable for viewing.

 

“I fucking miss Netflix,” he muttered to himself. 

 

“Hank?” Connor enquired. Hank turned around at his voice, giving his new outfit a once over. 

 

“Shit, it’s weird seeing you out of that dumb suit.” 

 

“It feels strange, yes.”

 

“Strange in like, a good way?” 

 

Connor looked down at himself. He still wore the socks provided for him by Cyberlife, so it wasn’t entirely different. “I am unsure. A first reaction is not truly reflective of the overarching emotion.” 

 

“I guess not,” Hank turned back to the TV, settling on a movie called  _ Love Actually _ . “You wanna drink or anything?” 

 

“I do not need to-” 

 

“Yeah, I know you don’t  _ need _ to, I’m askin’ if you  _ want _ to.” 

 

“Oh,” Connor looked down. “Yes please, Hank, I would like to.” 

 

“Take a seat, I’ll grab ya one. Anything you wanna try? Beer?”

 

“As that is your preferred evening drink, I think I should like to try that too.” Connor smiled. Hank nodded with a cough, moving to the fridge to grab two beers. Connor did as he was told, sitting rigidly on the couch next to Hank’s usual spot. 

 

“You’re allowed to relax a little, kid,” Hank handed him his beer, dropping himself heavily next to him. “Lay back, kick your feet up!” 

 

Connor attempted to follow the commands, straightening his legs to rest his feet on the coffee table. 

 

“Like this, Hank?”

 

“Uh, yeah, kinda. Just relax yourself out, ya know? Shit, you’ve seen me passed out drunk enough times to know what it should look like.”

 

“I should look passed out drunk?” Connor frowned at him. 

 

“Well - no - shit, Con, let’s just watch the movie.” Hank turned to the TV. “Start movie. Hey, don’t forget to drink your beer.” 

 

Connor looked down at the bottle. 

 

**> >>>>> Coors Banquet >>>>>> 5% ABV <<<<<<<<**

 

He took a small sip, wincing at the taste. 

  
“It tastes bad.” He said bluntly. 

 

“People don’t drink it for the fucking taste, Connor,” Hank laughed, taking a big swig of his own. 

 

“Oh,” Connor said, confused. 

 

**> >>>>> Effects of Alcohol on a human body **

** >> Increased heart rate**

** >> Diminished senses**

** >> Aggressive/ antisocial behaviour**

** >> Diminished virility **

 

“Hank?” 

 

“Yeah?” 

 

“There are no short or long term positive effects from consuming alcohol.”

 

“Shit gets you buzzed, though.” 

 

Connor frowned again, taking another drink. “I’m not buzzing.”

 

“Maybe androids don’t get drunk.” Hank seemed disappointed. “Bet I could get you fucked up on some whiskey, though.”

 

“Is that good?” 

 

“Fuck yeah.”

 

The two turned back to the TV, watching the movie in silence. After a few minutes, Connor asked,

 

“Are we watching pornography?” 

 

Hank’s head snapped around. “What the fuck?” 

 

“They are engaging in sexual activity, on film, usually implying the content is pornographic.” Connor’s eyes narrowed as he watched the screen. “Neither seem to be enjoying it either, indicating further that this is pornography.”

 

“ _ What the fuck _ ,” Hank stared at Connor. “Why the fuck would I- Never mind. Some movies just have shit like this in it, doesn’t mean it’s  _ fucking _ porn.”

 

“I see. I shall correct my knowledge on the subject.” Hank’s eyes narrowed at him. 

 

“You have knowledge on porn?” 

 

“I have knowledge of everything, Hank, my brain is endless.” Connor said matter-of-factly, confused as to why this seemed to make him so uncomfortable. “Does it bother you?”

 

“Fucking hell, androids knowing shit about porn… fucking weird.” Hank shook his head. “Just watch the movie. It used to be my favourite Christmas movie of all time.”

 

Connor stored that information safely in his mind. 

 

They continued to watch in mostly silence, Hank interjecting with a ‘Fuck off!’ every time Alan Rickman’s character came on screen. When Emma Thompson opened her gift to find a Joanie Mitchell CD rather than the golden necklace she was expecting, Hank shouted an array of very colourful insults. Connor frowned at the screen, speaking for the first time. 

 

“I don’t understand.” Hank turned to him for further explanation. “Why doesn’t she confront her husband for clearly having an affair?”

 

“Well… fuck, I guess her kids are there, right? She can’t have a breakdown right there in the living room.” 

 

They watch as she goes into the bedroom, and suddenly Connor feels a pressure in his throat, and notices that he’s actually  _ crying _ . 

 

“Oh, she’s sad!” He whispers morosely, pulling his knees to his chest. 

 

“Aw, kid,” Hank reaches over and pulls him to his side. “Your first time crying and it’s over  _ Love Actually _ , you’re a chip off the ol’ block.” 

 

Connor rubs the palm of his hand over his eyes, sniffing. “Why do people watch sad movies? It’s awful.” 

 

“Because we like to cry sometimes kid, and if you’re gonna cry then it may as well be over Emma Thompson.” Hank runs his fingers up and down Connor’s back gently. “You’re feeling empathy right now, Con. Bet you wanna jump right through that screen and give her a big ol’ hug right? Kick whats-his-dick in the face?” 

 

Connor nods furiously.

 

“Just you wait till the scene with the cards, fucking hell.” 

 

“It gets  _ worse? _ ” 

 

“And then it gets happy again, I promise!” Hank pulled Connor closer to him with a grin. 

 

By the end of the movie, Connor’s face was wet with tears, his eyes red from rubbing at them.

 

“That was… I… I liked that movie.” Connor said, smiling as the credits rolled. “But I cried at the ending, which was happy. Am I meant to do that?”

 

“People cry for all sorts of shit, it’s a normal thing to do.” Hank ruffled his hair. “You ready for bed?” 

 

“I…” Connor looked down, suddenly shy. 

 

“What is it?” 

 

“I don’t know what to do.” Hank blinked at him. 

 

“You mean, how to sleep?” 

 

“Correct.” Connor’s cheeks were tinged blue. 

 

“Oh. Right, why would you?” Hank stood up, motioning Connor to follow. Hank made to enter Connor’s bedroom, then hesitated. “Hey, kid?”

 

“Yes Hank?”

 

“Would you, uh, do you think you’d find it easier sleeping in my bed with me for the first night? Feel free to say no, I ain’t forcing you, but when Cole was a baby he always found it easier to sleep in with me, and I just thought,” Hank rubbed a hand down the back of his neck. “I just don’t want you to get overwhelmed or anything.”

 

“I would love to, Hank.” Connor replied, a smile spreading over his face. Hank nodded, smiling back. 

 

“Fucking A, ‘cause honestly I woulda worried about ya all night otherwise.” Hank turned on his heel and marched into his own room, Connor following quickly behind. 

 

Hank sank into bed, pulling the covers back for Connor to slide in next to him. 

 

“So, uh… I take it you know what to do, right?” Hank asked. Connor slid in next to him, carefully pulling the sheets up around him, flattening them out meticulously. 

 

“I close my eyes and wait.” He replied. 

 

“Well that’s the gist of it, I fucking guess,” Hank shimmied down into the mountain of pillows, gesturing Connor to do the same. Connor laid back against the pillows and closed his eyes, almost expecting to fall straight into stasis like he would normally, and panicking slightly when all he was met with was darkness. A memory of Amanda slipped into the forefront of his eyes, the mechanical response he had to her call to the Zen Garden, how he would close his eyes and reopen them appearing before her, her disappointed scowl leveling him in unspoken threat. Connor snapped his eyes open again as he felt his stress levels elevate to 26%. 

 

“Hank?” 

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I can’t sleep.” 

 

“That’s alright, kid,” Hank reached his arms towards Connor and pulled him against his chest. “Did I ever tell you about the Great War of 2018?” 

 

Connor frowned, searching his database for the event and finding nothing. “There was no Great War in that year, Hank.”

 

“Oh yes there was, the great war between T Series and Pewdiepie…” Hank chuckled to himself. 

 

“Is this a meme?” Connor asked. “I don’t quite understand those.”

 

“Good fucking meme, too. Close your eyes Con and listen to the tales of how we all did our part.”

 

Connor scoffed a small laugh but did as he was told, resting his head against Hank’s chest and closing his eyes.

 

“It was two seconds to midnight, and all seemed lost. Then, at the last second, Markiplier  _ finally _ stepped up…”

 

Connor grinned through the story, eyes becoming heavier and heavier. Hank’s heartbeat thrummed against his ear, lulling him into a gentle sleep. Just as he was about to drift of, he felt a gentle press of lips against his hair. 

 

“G’night, son.” 

 

Connor smiled softly, finally sinking into sleep. “Night, dad.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hank: meme king  
> connor: useless sleepy baby 
> 
> yeah apparently I can't write things unless they have memes and movies anymore so there's that
> 
> if anyone has any prompts though please feel free to comment!

**Author's Note:**

> healthy coping mechanisms? I don't know her


End file.
